tehomet | Sliding doors 1974

One fine day in 1974, when I was three or four, my mom and grandmother went into Dublin to do a couple of errands. My brother and sister and I were in the car's backseat, along for the spin. My mother did the first errand, going to the solicitor's office, and then couldn't remember what the second errand was. So she didn't go to Talbot Street to see the tailor like she was supposed to. Instead, she turned the car for home, and by chance and by seconds saved us all from dying or being seriously injured in the bombings like three hundred other people that day.

We drove down the street parallel to Talbot Street, and a sobbing woman ran out in front of our car. My mother missed hitting her by inches. But only when we got home to find my dad pacing the driveway did we find out what had happened.

It's the anniversary of the Dublin and Monaghan bombings today. So I'm remembering all the people affected by the bombings and the whole sad history of the Troubles, including my relatives who weren't so lucky on other days. Mostly I'm feeling gratitude for the peace process and, not least, my mom's imperfect memory.